Come Back
by Enchanted Roses
Summary: “No! Come back to me, my love! Please come back! I need you! Come back! Come back!” she yelled in vain, now sobbing into his still chest.
1. Come back, my love

The weather outside was cold and dreary, but frankly, she wouldn't have it any other way. If the sun was happily smiling down on the one place that caused her so much pain, she would have felt betrayed by Earth itself.

It was July 26th, the third anniversary of the day that tore away her beloved. It was the day that had broken her heart, never to be repaired.

_'I'm sorry love, but I have to go. They need me out there. The chances of us winning aren't nearly as good without me. I _know_ their secrets. I love you. Take care of our baby!'_

_He was gone. She had held onto his hand as long as she could, eyes pleading with him to stay and full of tears. Painfully, their hands had separated. It felt like the world was going in slow motion as he looked into her eyes before departing. It was one look, but it said a thousand words. Her beloved ran off into the red sunrise, looking more brave and handsome than ever he had before, as a black raven flew overhead. He was accepting what Fate laid before him. _

_'No! Don't leave me!' she yelled after him. The sky glowing red seemed like a sign to her, a sign she didn't like. _

"Come, Michael. We're going to visit Daddy today. Remember when we did last year? Wake up, baby," the mother said, gently shaking her son awake. Her words finally sunk in to the sleeping six year-old boy, and he sat up, rubbing the sleepiness out of his eyes with his small fists.

"We get to visit Daddy again?" he asked, obviously getting somewhat excited at the prospect.

"Yes, love. Now hurry and get ready," she replied.

_It had finally ended. The world was once again at its best. After a large explosion, which literally shook the whole earth, the Dark Lord was gone, forever. No longer would he terrorize innocent people. No longer would people shake in fear at the mere mention of his name, even in broad daylight. Witches and wizards universally were now free once again. Freedom like this always came with a price, however. The price could only be paid by sacrifice; great sacrifice inspired by great love. In the end, sacrificial love was what kept the world together and running as smoothly as humanly possible._

_"My love! Where are you, my love?" she called, knowing he would answer to this name, however silly it sounded. She was too worried to care. "Where are you? Come back to me! Please!" Her cries were in vain. The beautiful lady was still not reunited with her handsome prince. Isn't this the part of the story where he rescues her from misery? Isn't this where he sweeps her off her feet, shares a life-changing kiss with her, and they live happily ever after?_

_She was running through the stained battlefield, looking for him amongst the dead, alive, and wounded when she saw him. He was lying on his back, leg twisted underneath him in a way it shouldn't, evidently fairly painful, and blood pouring from somewhere inside his robes. He looked oddly angelic considering the circumstances, with face surrounded by a halo of gold and his pure white uniform stained scarlet. _

"Are we there yet, Mum?" the little blonde asked impatiently. His feet were quite tired considering how far he had walked from the castle already.

"Not much further, baby," she said sympathetically. "Do you want me to carry you the rest of the way?" The boy nodded his head and spread his arms for his mother to pick him up. Michael was a rather small child. He was exactly like his father in this aspect, who, until third or fourth year of Hogwarts, was rather scrawny. Considering Michael's size, it was easy for his mother to pack him around everywhere. She picked him up and he wrapped his arms around her neck and legs around her waist, head resting in the crook of her neck.

As the caring mother walked towards her goal, her mind wandered back to bittersweet memories again.

_She ran to him, falling on the ground next to her angel, her savior, holding onto the front of his robes as if her life depended on it._

_"Oh, my love, are you okay? What happened? Please talk to me, love! Please!' she pleaded desperately. To her relief, the eyes of her angel fluttered open slightly, and he forced a weak smile. Tears were flooding down her face now, not once even pausing in their flow. _

_"Hey," he said, visibly straining to keep himself conscious._

_"Hey," she replied, just as quietly, forcing what she hoped was a comforting smile. "What happened? Are you all right?" The lovely lady looked terribly worried. _

_"I got hit… by my own father… Got me with the ol' ripper curse." He said this as if it was nothing worse than the cheering charm. However, the beautiful woman knew of the curse's effects, and she didn't like them. _

_"Oh, God, someone help me."_

"Hey, Mommy?" her thoughtful little boy asked, demanding attention once again from his mother, pulling her out of her daydreaming.

"Yes, baby?"

"Will I be a hero like Daddy some day?" a tiny voice asked, initiating horrible thoughts from his mother. 'Oh my word... If my baby dies... I could never handle that. The only thing that kept me going was Michael, the only child of my one and only love. The only living memory I have.'

Yet she would be encouraging to her son nonetheless. "Yes, Michael. I think you will be a hero someday, even if it's not the same kind as Daddy. I think almost everyone is a hero in their own special way, even when they don't do stuff that _seems_ amazingly brave like Daddy. Like take the Minister of Magic for example. Most people don't label him as a hero, but he helps people all the time, doesn't he?" The boy seemed to ponder what his mother told him for a minute, before asking more questions.

"How are you a hero, Mum?" he asked. She took a moment to ponder this before she answered.

"I suppose in a couple ways. When I was still in school, I helped your godfather, Harry, in all sorts of adventures. And as soon as I was old enough, I joined the Order of the Phoenix, to help overcome Lord Voldemort. That took all sorts of bravery, you know? But I think that what made me most like a hero was when your father died. I loved your father very much, Michael. My life felt incomplete without him. He left me with you to take care of, and everything in our home. It was the hardest thing I've ever had to do. Live without him, I mean." After she was done talking, the child sat there quietly, thinking about what she said.

"Mum," he said after a while. "How come it was so hard to live without Daddy?"

"Hm…. Well think of it this way, your father took care of me. When I was sad, he cheered me up. When I was having a problem, he always helped me, no matter how trivial or complicated it was. His impersonations made me laugh more than anything else in the world. He was like my other half in a way. I can't really explain what it's like until you're in the same position yourself. Let's see… if I were to die today, how do you think that would make you feel?"

He thought about it for a moment and said, "Really sad."

"Can you imagine moving somewhere else, and having someone else take care of you? Or having to take care of yourself a lot of the time?"

"Yeah…. I wouldn't like that very much. Mummy, please don't die."

"I won't, baby. I won't," she replied.

_"No! No, baby. It's too late. Just stay with me, until… until…" he broke off, not wanting to finish his sentence._

_"NO! No, love, you'll be all right. Everything's going to be okay. I'm going to go get some help and we'll get you healed up and everything will be fine again," she said. Not wanting to even think about him dying. _

_"No, baby, I'm afraid it can't be that way. Just stay here and talk to me, please," he begged. _

_His wife bit her lip and seemed to ponder her decision before replying, "Okay, okay I'll stay with you, if that's what you want." He smiled and offered his thanks quietly. "Whatever you want, love," she had replied, stroking his hair. _

_"Will you promise me one thing?" he asked, getting a tad bit more serious._

_"Yes, anything, what is it?" _

_"Promise me… promise me that when I'm… gone… that you'll take care of our son. Take care of Michael, love."_

_"Okay. I'll take care of him always. I promise."_

"I promised I'd always take care of you, son. And I will," his mother comforted, also remembering her promise to the boy's father.

"Thank you, Mum, for always taking care of me. And for cutting off the crust of my peanut butter and jelly, and reading me bed time stories. I love you," the little voice said. He had no idea how much it meant to his mother when he said that. She was so touched that he loved her that much; that everything she did for her son didn't go unappreciated, even though he was but only six years old.

"I love you too, Michael," she replied. "I love you too."

"What makes me a hero, Mum?" he asked after a moment or two of silence.

"You, my boy, are very brave. You know how? Well for one, you overcame your fear of the dark, didn't you? And when you found that boggart, you handled it splendidly. You knew exactly what it was and came to get me straight away. That was very brave. And you know what else? You keep your dear old mother sane. Merlin knows how hard a task that is. You are quite the little hero. _My_ little hero."

_"Thank you," he said, now breathing hard. "Thank you for― for everything. You made everything in my life… everything in my life worth it. I wouldn't change any of it, just so I could… so I could be with you. I'm sorry I have to… have to leave so soon. I wish I could stay… stay longer… and watch our son grow up…."_

"You sure are lucky, Mum, to have so many heroes," Michael speculated.

Hermione smiled and said, "Too right you are. Look, love. We're here." She set the boy down and he turned around to see a grand memorial. There was a wall with a fair few amount of names on it. It had the names of people who died in the final battle; people who sacrificed their lives. They gave the greatest sacrifice of all.

There were flowers by many of the names. But what made the memorial so grand was the statue. It was a purely golden statue of a Phoenix taking flight. It had to be at least ten feet tall with a twenty foot wingspan. The mere sight of it was mesmerizing. The detail was extremely intricate, right down to the last feather. But the best part about the Phoenix was the hope it gave. It gave hope to people in even the direst of circumstances. The Phoenix was like a golden light, shining to a people in a world full of darkness. When Hermione looked at it, it gave her hope that one day she might see her love again, and that maybe, just maybe, he didn't die in vain.

_"My will… it's in the binding of your favorite book, the book that brought us together. Remember that?" His eyes dazed off at the memory. He had a reminiscent smile on his face before zoning in again and remembering his task. "I left everything to you. It's all yours, love; the manor, the money, everything. When Michael is old enough, you can give it to him and he'll take care of you. There's enough money that neither of you will have to work until he graduates from Hogwarts."_

_"Okay. Okay, I can take care of everything."_

_"A lot of the money is invested in various places. My will should tell you where you can find everything you need. And my lawyer…his name is Jeremy Nemier. You can trust him. He'll help you take care of everything." Hermione took in everything he said, as if she were lost in a desert and his words were sweet and pure water. _

_"All right, my love. I can handle it. I promise to take care of Michael. Always," she said, offering as much comfort to her dying husband as she could manage._

_"I'm sorry I can't help you raise, Michael," he said, hurt showing in his eyes at the very thought. "Will you… will you tell him… tell him something for me?" _

_"Yes, what do you want me to tell him?"_

_"Tell him… tell him that I love him so much… And tell him that one day, we'll see each other again…. Can you do that for me?"_

_"Yes. I'll tell him."_

_"Thank you," he said, "for everything. You made… everything in my life worth it… I wouldn't… change any of it… just so I could be with you…. I'm so sorry I have to leave so soon. But I want you to know… I want you to know that I love you. I love you so much, my 'Mione. Words cannot even… cannot even express the depth of my love for you. I'll love you forever. Don't ever forget. Will you… will you kiss me… one last time? For memory's sake." She could do naught but grant his wish. She leaned down and locked lips with her love for one last time. The kiss was very gentle, sweet, and passionate. It was as if they were both trying to pour all their love for each other out into this one last kiss. _

Hermione walked over to the top of the hill, the spot where she last saw him. She laid down exactly where she had before, almost exactly three years ago, and began to sob. Hermione missed her husband. She needed him. She needed him more than cake needs icing, more than soup needs crackers, more than flowers need rain and sunlight. Her life was miserable without him. It was true that the only thing that made her wake up in the morning was Michael, and her promise to take care of him. Yet she did not go a day without thinking about her dead husband. She did not go a lonely night without shedding a few tears for him.

All of a sudden she felt a small hand on her back. Michael had come to comfort her. This made her cry even more. Oh how she loved her son.

"Mum, are you all right?" he asked.

"Yes, I'm fine, Hun'," she said, sitting up and setting him in her lap, hugging him.

"You miss him, don't you?" he inquired.

"Yes, I miss him lots."

"Me too," Michael said. There was a pause before either one spoke again.

"Michael, before he left, he told me to tell you something very important. Do you think you're ready to know what it is now?"

Naturally, an inquisitive six year old mind would never pass up the opportunity to gain new knowledge, especially if it were about his father, whom he barely remembers. "Yes, I think I'm ready."

"Your father told me to tell you that he loves you, Michael, very much so. I'm sure he would do anything for you. No, I _know_ he'd do anything for you. In fact, he even sacrificed himself so you could be safe and live a normal life. If that's not what love is, I don't know what is."

"I wish I could meet him," he said. "He sounds like a really good guy, huh?"

"He was."

_"I… I always knew you were… a damn good… kisser," he said, trying to be amusing._

_"Never as good as you," she replied with a slight smile on her face. "You got hit with ol' ripper and you still kiss amazing." He tried to smile in thanks but it didn't last long as extreme pain shot through his body. His breathing became more shallow and laborious. "Listen, I have to tell you something. I love you so much, my love. I shall miss you terribly after you leave. Please, don't forget me when you're gone."_

_"I'll never forget you," he whispered. "Take care of Michael for me. Tell my mother that I love her. And tell Harry… tell him that I said congratulations and good luck with Ginny." Hermione nodded in reply. "We'll meet again, love. You, Michael, and I will be reunited soon. I promise. I love you, Hermione Malfoy..." He said these last words, squeezed her hand one last time, and closed his eyes. _

_"No! Come back to me, my love! Please come back! I need you! Come back! Come back!" She yelled in vain, now sobbing into his still chest. "Please come back, Draco. I love you."_


	2. Learning Hope

The last rays of the closing day poured in through her window. She looked out over the landscape of green, her eyes drawing to the beautiful lake as the light seemed to glide over it, making it glow a deep blue. Her day had been quiet, with not much chaos to distract her. It gave her a lot of time to reflect, on everything.

She thought about the latest years in her life, and how they had drastically changed. She thought of life when she was a mere child, wearing her Sunday dress and being twirled around by her adoring father, and then helping Mum bake cookies. She had gotten flour all over herself. She thought about getting the letter that changed her life, and going to a school that was so mysterious, complex, simple, welcoming, dangerous, and beautiful all at the same time.

She thought about how she had made that school her home. She thought about how she had met her two best friends, and how they became inseparable, facing all of their many trials together. She loved those friends dearly, and was thankful they were still there, by her side through everything.

She thought about how a man had come into her life, and changed it forever. He swept her off her feet, and, she was convinced, made her the single happiest person in the world. She thought about how, upon graduation, they started their lives together, and had a son. She loved her son very much. She then thought about how the love of her life had been ripped away from them, and they had to continue their lives without him. To say that it was difficult for her would be an understatement. Her tears welled up as she watched the sky turn from blue to orange to red. This time of day was always hardest on her when she stopped to think about it. It was at sunset that he had died.

She missed him so much. The only reason that she kept on living and working hard was for her son. She promised she would take care of him, and she would do that to the best of her ability. Yet sometimes she just wanted to quit. She needed her husband. He had been her comforter, her shelter, her guidance, her life. When she was in his presence, the feelings she felt were indescribable. She felt, dare she say it, complete. She felt like nothing could ever go wrong in the world, so long as he was there. She felt that with him always in her presence, she would never truly have to worry about being sad.

Standing next to him had made her feel so small compared to his tall height. But she liked that too. It made her feel protected. The way he looked at her made her feel so loved and important, like she was the only one who existed in his world. He made her feel like she was more beautiful than any other woman on earth. And the glances they would share while in the presence of others were one of her favorite things in the world. It was their little secret, how they told each other with their eyes that they loved each other and that they were the sexiest person to have ever walked the earth.

But now he was gone. And they would never have those glances ever again. She had taken it hard when he first died. She shut everyone out, not talking, and only eating when someone forced her to. Every night she would cry herself to sleep. Every morning, her first thoughts would be innocent hopes to see the love of her life. It didn't take long for her to realize the crushing reality that she would never see him again. And that's how her days would start off. She was like a body walking around without a soul. Some ignorant strangers who did not know her situation were positive that she had gotten the dementor's kiss.

This went on for three months, until one of her loyal best friends decided to do something.

'_Hermione,' Harry said, walking into the room. She simply looked at him, and then back at her baby, whom she was washing in a simple tub. 'I had just gotten back from work when Ginny suggested I come see you. I thought it was a great idea. We didn't talk much the other day. How was your day?'_

'_Fine,' she replied simply, not even looking at him. She pulled her son out of the water and wrapped him in a towel._

'_Oh. We had a good day at work today. Ron and I caught another Death Eater! He'll most likely be getting the dementor's kiss tomorrow. Great, huh?'_

'_Mmm…' she mumbled, quickly clothing her child before he got cold. Harry watched her, at a loss on how to get her to start talking._

'_So how's everything going running the Manor? Are things running smoothly?' At this she shot him a reproachful look and nodded her head. Harry took Michael from Hermione's arms and began talking to him, making him giggle. The little boy seemed overjoyed to see his godfather. _

'_Michael sure has gotten bigger.' Hermione nodded again. 'How about we sit down and have a cup of tea, 'Mione? Then we can talk.'_

'_Okay,' she said, and started walking off after grabbing her son back. Harry assumed he was supposed to follow her and did so. _

'_I sure have enjoyed all this snow, haven't you?' he said as they walked into the parlor. She just grunted in response. _

'_Dolly, get some tea for us, will you?' she said to a nearby house elf._

'_Wow, Hermione! That's the most you've said all night!' This exclamation earned Harry a death glare from her. Harry dropped his joking façade and sobered up real fast. 'You're not okay, are you?' he stated more than asked with a concerned look on his face. Hermione's eyes teared up as she looked down and shook her head. This was the first time in all of their friendship that Harry could remember Hermione looking so defeated. _

'_I miss him, Harry,' she said in a quiet voice. 'I just don't know what to do anymore. My life has been flipped upside down and I just can't handle it!' Tears streamed down her face. She appeared to be a broken woman. _

'_You've been shutting us all out; pushing us away. None of us know what to do to help. We can't make anything better for you if you don't talk, 'Mione. We love you; we want you to be at least remotely happy.' She put her son on the ground and pulled her hands up to her hair, clenching it between her fists._

'_I'm sorry, Harry,' she sobbed. 'I just can't be happy. How can I be? He was my everything, my life. He seemed to make my world turn. And now he's g-g-gone.' She was now full out weeping. Harry walked towards her and sat next to her on the couch so she could cry on his shoulder while he whispered comforting thoughts into her ear. She finally calmed down enough to stop crying, so Harry offered her a handkerchief._

'_Thank you,' she said, blowing her nose._

'_You haven't been sleeping, have you?' he asked._

_She shook her head no and said, 'I can't. Whenever I do, I have nightmares with_ him_ in them.' Harry nodded understandingly._

'_From the looks of it, I'd say you aren't eating enough either.'_

'_I have no appetite.'_

'_How do you have enough milk for your son?'_

'_I eat enough for him.' She replied._

'_Hermione, this isn't healthy!" Harry said, beginning to get angry._

'_Okay! I'm sorry! I'll start eating more, I promise! Just don't be angry with me.' His eyes softened._

'_I wasn't only talking about your lack of appetite,' he had said, calming down. She cast him a confused glance. 'I'm talking about your whole situation, Hermione. It's like you're not even a person anymore. You go around acting like a robot or something. It's not healthy. You need to be strong. We miss you. Draco's not the only one who died you know? We all lost someone important to us. We need your love and comfort too. We need _you_, Hermione. It's at a time like this when we should stick together, support each other. It may be even more important to stick together now than it was before. We can't let you do this to yourself.'_

'_I'm sorry,' she said, now crying again, though not as much. 'I'm sorry, Harry. It's just so hard! But I promise I'll try to be better. I'll start eating more, and I'll make myself go to sleep, even if it does mean dreams of him.'_

'_We're not just worried about your physical health. We're worried about your mental and emotional health as well, Hermione.' He said, his voice full of concern and compassion. _

'_What do you mean?' she asked, brows furrowed in confusion._

'_I mean that you need to try to be happy. You should try talking to us more. What about Ginny? She misses you terribly! And with the baby on the way… it's hard for her not to have you around at all. And Ron, he's getting married Hermione! I know it's hard for you to see him so happy, but you don't want to ruin his happiness do you?' He paused, letting it sink in. Hermione was still looking down, but she was listening intently to what Harry was saying. _

'_Your son needs you too.' Harry said suddenly. Hermione looked up at him quickly, and then looked back down. 'He needs his mother, especially now that he lost a very important figure in his life. He shouldn't lose you too. I know how hard it is not having parents who love you. And I'm not saying that you don't love him, because I know you do. But you have to show him that. And as he gets older, you're going to have to be there for him as he faces hardships in his life. You can offer him something nobody else can, and he'll need it. You have to be strong for the both of you, Hermione. I know you can do it. I know that somewhere in there, there's a brave spirit, and a strong soul. I've seen it before, and I know that I will see it again. It may seem like there isn't much hope in your life right now, but it's time to move on. It doesn't mean forget Draco. You never will, and there will always be a hole in your heart because he's gone. I've lost important people in my life too. It seems like there's no more reason to live. But there is, Hermione, there is. There's always a reason to live. Be thankful that you had Draco while you did. And be even more thankful that you can still be surrounded by a family that loves you dearly, and whom I know you love just as much.'_

_Hermione looked up at him as he finished his speech, and grabbed his hand, nodding to tell him that she had understood and listened. _

'_Thank you, Harry. I needed that. I really do love you for being such a great friend.' _

Hermione, true to her word, did change after that, and her life ran much more smoothly. She _was_ happier, and had loved and been loved by all her friends. She says friends, but they were really closer than family. Unfortunately though, however much she poured her heart into her friends and child, it did not cover up the scar of losing her husband. She missed him just as much as she did the day he died. She just learned not to let it consume her. She sighed as one lone tear trailed down her cheek.

She heard a knock on her door and turned around to see her grinning best friend. He happened to look quite pleased with himself.

"Harry!" Hermione ran and jumped into his arms as he twirled her around and put her back on the ground.

"Hey, Hermione," Harry said with a lazy smile on his face. "It's good to see you."

"Thanks. Michael's in his room. I'm sure that's your next question."

"Right you are," said Harry, and as Hermione opened her mouth to speak, he continued, "and Ginny's at home with the baby. I hope you guys have a lovely discussion." Hermione hugged Harry goodbye and kissed him on the cheek before disapparating and then apparating into Godric's Hollow.

"Ginny! Where are you?" Hermione called, first checking the lower level. She heard a muffled yell from upstairs, and ran up the stairs, assuming correctly that Ginny was in the nursery.

"I thought I'd be seeing you soon," Ginny grinned.

"How was France?" Hermione inquired, preparing to make her and her friend completely updated on the news that is their lives.

"Perfect!" Ginny answered, her grin becoming even larger.

"Really?"

"Yes! Harry and I had the best time!" Ginny sounded really excited.

"I am sure you did."

"He's such a romantic," she said, her facial expression giving an impression that she somehow knew the secrets of the world.

"Ooh, what did he do?"

"Oh, a million things, but we won't get into that now. How is Michael?"

"Good. He learned a new word this week; mischievous. I called him that after he took all my undergarments, soaked them with water, and then stuck them in the freezer. I don't know who taught him that!"

Ginny giggled. "That _is_ rather funny, though. Isn't it?"

"No! If he's already doing that sort of stuff at the age of six, who _knows_ what he'll do by the time he reaches his teen years. It will be dreadful!" Hermione replied. "Anyways, I received a letter from Dumbledore last Monday." She said this casually, as if it were no big deal, and that her old Headmaster wrote a letter to every one of his past students every week. However, Ginny knew better.

"Really? What was it about?" Ginny asked; playing along with Hermione's game.

"He wants me to teach," Hermione said, knowing full well that Ginny knew what this meant to her. She would have to return to Hogwarts.

"What about Michael?" Ginny asked.

"He'd come with me. I suppose he would just stay with me during classes or with other professors during their breaks. I might get a nanny if it gets too rough, though."

"That doesn't sound too awful bad. So are you going to accept?" she asked.

"I'm not sure. It's really a big job. I'm sure it would be life-changing. Do you think I should?" The last part was said in desperation.

"Yes. I think you should go. It would be good for you. Besides, it will change things up a bit. And it will get Michael out of your hair for a while."

"That's true. I just don't know if I would be a good teacher."

"Hermione, you'll be an excellent teacher! If I didn't know better, I'd say you were made for it. And think of all the students you tutored while you were still in school. That must tell you something!" Ginny answered.

"Well, yes. I suppose you're right. But it doesn't make me any less nervous. I'll think about it. Dumbledore needs a decision in three days' time. Have you eaten yet?"

"No, we just got back a little while ago."

"Excellent. Let's go have Dobby make us some dinner, and you can tell me all about your vacation to France. God knows you deserved it."

The next morning, Hermione awoke to a beautiful, sunshiny day. The impeccable weather led to a decision to go on a picnic with her beloved son. Malfoy Manor had acres and acres of beautiful land, and the most stunning hippogriffs to ride. They enjoyed a splendid morning, flying over their fields together, and picking which spot would be exactly right for a picnic. Finally, Michael decided that he liked the little clearing by the stream best, so they landed there. Michael skipped rocks while Hermione prepared the lunch. Soon they were both eating the most superb meal (prepared by house elves, all of which had first-rate rights). The setting was perfect.

"Michael," Hermione began, "Dumbledore sent me a letter the other day. He's the Headmaster at the old school I went to."

"Really?" he said, his eyes alighting with interest. He loved hearing about Hogwarts.

"Yes," Hermione said, smiling at his enthusiasm. "He wants me to go back to Hogwarts and teach. What would you think of that?"

"Would I have to stay here?" he asked frowning.

"No, of course not, you would come with me. We'll have a splendid time— if you say yes, of course."

"You mean it's up to me?" he asked.

"In a sort of way it is. I do want to go. But it will be an awfully big change, so if you don't want to then I won't. So what do you say?"

"Let's go! It sounds like an adventure to me!" he said, eyes alighting at the prospect. "It sounds like an awfully big adventure!"

"It will be, son. It will be," Hermione said, knowing somehow exactly how true that statement was.

"I hope you can come help me unpack at Hogwarts. Packing I can stand, but unpacking is the worst, Ginny," said Hermione as they both shrunk important items and put them into the trunk.

"I'm sure Dumbledore will say that it's fine," she replied.

"I hope so."

"So what does Michael think about going to Hogwarts?" Ginny asked.

"Believe it or not, he's really excited about it. He says it will be a grand adventure. I just hope he won't get himself into too much trouble."

"He probably will," Ginny replied, already imagining the great fun he will have tormenting his mum. She grinned wickedly.

"What are you smiling about?" Hermione asked suspiciously. She knew Ginny to be a very accomplished prankster, and didn't want her giving any advice to her son.

"Nothing, nothing," she replied. Her face suddenly became thoughtful. "You know, Michael will be the youngest person to ever live at Hogwarts. Just imagine, out of all the years, he'll be the first! It's rather neat if you think about it."

"It is, isn't it? Should I take this dress, or this one?" Hermione asked, holding up two different black dresses.

"I say take both. Better safe than sorry, right? Who knows what situation may arise. There may be some hot new professor teaching there!" Ginny teased. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"You know I don't want to remarry, Ginny! It would just be… weird. I don't know. It seems like I feel like I'm waiting for something. But I don't know what. Anyhow, I have no desire to date, court, get engaged, or be married!"

"I didn't say anything about catching a guy. I just thought that you might want to look nice. You've had that second one for years though, right? Since… oh…." She trailed off, suddenly remembering exactly when she got that particular black dress; her first date with Draco Malfoy. Ginny had helped pick it out herself.

"Yes, since that," Hermione said briskly. "Now, which shoes shall I take? I think at least three pairs of dress shoes, four pairs of sneakers, 7 sandals, you think? Three slippers will most likely be the ticket…. Or maybe I should bring four. And I don't know, maybe 8 or 9 sandals will be better. And six pairs of dress shoes. Yes six sounds about right…."

"Hermione!" Ginny exclaimed. She had been trying to get her attention since just about the beginning of her rant. "You're going to be gone a school year, not ten years! And you can always floo back here for an extra pair of shoes or two if you need them. Not to mention you got an O in Transfiguration N.E.W.T.'s."

"Hmmm, yes I guess you're right," Hermione said. "But I'd rather just be safe. How about three pairs of dress shoes? Ginny, they're important! And, well, three pairs of sneakers; some good ones and bad ones. Six pairs of sandals; those are good to have, and two slippers. Ginny, I have to bring the fuzzy ones and the black ones!"

"Hermione, sometimes I don't know what to do about you. You weren't like this in school, were you?" Ginny asked.

"No. In school I was only concentrated on my studies. And I didn't have to worry about whether or not I looked good. Being a professor brings much more attention to you. And I'll be representing the school! It's very important!"

"Not that important. I don't understand why you are practically hyperventilating just picking out shoes!" she said.

Hermione sighed and sat down on the bed. "I guess I'm just nervous. It's been a while since I've gone back there. I mean _really_ gone back. I'll have to wander the halls, go to the library, eat in the Great Hall, and visit Hagrid; everything that I used to do. I'll be doing everything I did when I was young. Except this time, it will be different. Instead of living there and making memories, I'll just be reminded of ones that I only _wish_ I could relive. It really scares me."

"I can understand your worry. But you'll have to remember that you will be making memories, a lot more of them. They just won't be with the same people or at the same time. And did you honestly think you would stay away from Hogwarts forever? It was inevitable for you to go back. You're Hermione Granger! But honestly, I'm sure everything will be rough, but you're strong. You can make it, Hermione."

"Come Michael, we want to make it in time, before every student arrives, that way we find a compartment. Ginny and Harry are here to drive us to King's Cross now."

"Okay, Mum. How far away is it?" asked the inquisitive mind.

"It will only be a couple of hours, unless they decide to fly. And they probably will."

"Excellent!" said the boy, grinning from ear to ear.

As Hermione predicted, they did end up flying. Harry Potter had always been one to defy the limits, and that would never change. They found an empty little compartment towards the back of the train, and miraculously had a quiet journey all the way to Hogsmeade Station, being interrupted only once by the familiar old lady with the food trolley.

Michael had asked his mother to tell him all about her years at Hogwarts, starting in her first year. He insisted he tell her in minute detail. She consented willingly, and happily traveled down memory lane, while heading towards her long lost home. The distraction was good for her. She no longer had to think about the fact that she was headed towards the place where it all began. It was at Hogwarts where they fell in love. Naturally, this would lead to thoughts of how they married, how they had their baby and seemed to be the happiest people in the world, and how he had gone on, and left her to take care of their son on her own. She hadn't realized yet, that the one person she had always been anxious about caring for, had done her the biggest favor of all. He had given Hermione Malfoy, best friend of Harry Potter and greatest witch of her age, something to live for.


	3. Long Lost Letters

"The last thing I remember was looking behind me with the little mirror I had, and seeing this huge pair of bright yellow eyes. I didn't even have time to be afraid, because all that there was after that was black. The next thing I know, I was waking up in the hospital wing, with Madam Pomfrey standing over me, and Dumbledore standing a little ways off, with his usual grin in place, and his eyes twinkling even brighter than before."

"So what happened? How did they get rid of the basilisk?" Asked Michael, hooked on the story.

"Well, I woke up and Dumbledore told me that they had solved the problem. Harry had, actually. I was so excited that as soon as I found out that I could go, I jumped up to go find Harry and Ron so that they could tell me all about it. And they did." Hermione said, smiling for old time's sake.

"So what _did_ happen, Mum?"

"You'll have to ask Uncle Harry for the answer to that, m'dear!"

"Aw Mum! That's not—"

"Look! We're here! Get your stuff together, sweetheart."

"All right, but don't call me sweetheart. That's not cool!" he protested.

"Who says it's not cool?"

"Uncle Harry made me promise not to tell you who said that it's not cool," he replied, his pride swelling with the belief that he had kept his godfather's confidence.

"Ah, I see. I'll try not to say it anymore then, baby."

"Mum!"

"What, darling?"

"Stop that!"

"Stop what, dear? I didn't call you sweetheart just like you asked me."

"Good evening, Hermione. I'm glad you've made it here safe." Dumbledore greeted her as she walked into the Entrance Hall.

"Professor Dumbledore! Oh, it's so good to see you!"

"Oh why thank you. It's very good to see you too, my dear. But please, I insist, do not call me Professor. You are not a student any longer. Call me Albus," said the strange old man.

"Oh, I couldn't do that. It sounds so strange. You always have and will be my dear professor. Have you seen Michael, yet? He's gotten quite grown up. Come along, Michael!" she called. Her son was currently talking to some third year girl who he had just made friends with. Apparently she thought he was cutest little boy she had ever met.

"Coming, Mum!" he called, trotting over to see what his mother had wanted. The atmosphere was wearing off on him, and he seemed to be quite excited.

"Say hello to Professor Dumbledore. Remember I told you about him on the train?" He looked shyly towards the Headmaster and grinned.

"Hello, Mr. Malfoy. Welcome to Hogwarts!" Dumbledore said. He had won the boy over immediately, Hermione knew. His face split into a grin and he replied with an excited 'hello.'

The next day, before classes were to start, Hermione stood outside the Great Hall with Dumbledore and her son. "Okay, sweetie, Professor Dumbledore is going to show you around the castle while I have my first class or two. I'll see you in a couple of hours okay? Have fun!" She said, ready to head towards her first class. She was very nervous about teaching. She wasn't sure if she would be able to do it very well. She wondered if she'd be intimidating like Professor McGonagall, or bullied around like Professor Trelawney was. She was hoping that her teaching tactics would be somewhat like Professor Lupin's though. There wasn't a good student who disliked him. She looked up to him very much.

She could already tell that whispers were going around school amongst the students, and even the professors. Hermione Granger (now Hermione Malfoy) was finally back at Hogwarts. Just as Ginny said, they knew they couldn't keep her away if they tried. Most students were thrilled about the novice. It wasn't every day that a new professor happened to be the most famous witch in the entire wizarding world, apart from Ginny Potter of course.

However, some students, mainly Slytherins, were apprehensive about her. They knew that past people in their house hadn't treated her very well. Actually, to put it bluntly, they treated her like dirt; like mud to be exact. They only hoped that she didn't favor Gryffindor and torture Slytherin like some teachers did.

"Good morning, class. Please, come in," she said. She had stayed up very late last night making sure her classroom was just right, and she still wasn't completely satisfied. She knew from her past experiences that the way a teacher decorates a classroom makes a very big impression, and can affect said teacher for the rest of the year. The window shades, she had decided, would always be open. Dark classrooms make students sleepy, thus making it hard for them to pay attention. She put up posters with various rates, pictures displaying different actions, anything you could thing of that had to deal with teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts. Yes, she had come back to Hogwarts to teach none other than that infamous subject. The last teacher had taught for the last three years. Evidently, the curse had been broken. But she had decided that teaching was not her forte, and so she quit at the end of the year. People were still reluctant to teach the subject, which made it hard for the Headmaster to find teachers. He knew, however, that Hermione Granger could not let a challenge go without giving it her very best shot. He was delighted to hear that this hadn't changed through the many tragedies she had faced in her young life.

"Good morning, good morning," she said.

"Good morning, Professor Malfoy," they all chanted in unison. She was rather taken aback by the formality.

"Oh, goodness, who taught you to do that?" One very studious looking boy (named Stewart she had later found out) spoke up and said that they were required to say that every morning with the last Defense Professor or they would all have to write lines. "Well that's silly," she had said. "I don't need you all to say 'good morning' to me to make me feel important. You don't have to say that to me, anymore, unless you so desire." The students all looked at their friends and grinned. The fifth year class of Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw could already tell that they would like her as a professor.

"Anyways, as you all know, my name is Professor Malfoy. However, I do not know any of your names. Let's start in the back (I hate how every teacher starts in the front). You there, what's your name, sweetheart?"

"I'm Jenna, Jenna Thompson. Pleased to meet you, Professor Malfoy."

"As am I, Miss Thompson…"

The first day followed exactly as so. She took time to first get to know her students. Their reaction to Michael was very good, also. None of them were too terribly distracted by him, and none of them seemed to hate him either.

Michael was having the time of his life. He received the attention given to him in stride, and loved every moment of it. She was afraid that after a while, this might not be too good for his character. But let him have fun now, she reflected.

The second day she concentrated on figuring out what they already knew, that way she would know what she needed to teach them.

On the third day, she had finally started teaching them. She was content with the amount they had already learned, but would have liked it more if they had learned additional information. She would have to work really hard to get them up to speed. But that was a challenge to her; one she would face head on, like every other one thrown her way. Hermione Malfoy was not discouraged in the slightest.

The first week went amazingly well. There were few students who tested her authority. Most of them realized that she would give them all the privileges they needed, and quite a few that they wanted. She did tell them, however, that the minute that they abused their privileges, they would be taken away. It had scared them enough to obey her. For now at least.

Saturday night she went up to the astronomy tower to gaze at the stars. It would take her a while, she realized, to get used to all the privileges _she_ received as a teacher. In seventh year she began going to the astronomy tower to think; sometimes with someone else, but most generally by herself. It was her escape, her way of regenerating to prepare herself for the world.

She thought about her students, and how she was already picking up on their personality. Little Emily Rose, a second year, was a timid little girl. She worked hard and always did her schoolwork, yet she wasn't a know-it-all like Hermione had been. She could tell that already she was becoming a dependable friend to her housemates, and even to those who weren't in her house or were even really nice to her at all. Emily Rose had a big heart, she had decided.

Then there was Morgan Willey. She was in her sixth year. Morgan would most likely test her patience more than any other student in that particular class. She was loud and outspoken, yet popular and generally nice. Morgan was more interested in boys and appearances, unfortunately, than school. Morgan was a challenge also.

There was also a popular boy. His name was Aaron Miller. Aaron Miller made Hermione Malfoy more nervous than any other student, and sometimes any other person in general. He was a seventh year boy. One would categorize him as tall, dark, and handsome. This wasn't what made Hermione nervous though. He had an aura about him; an aura that reminded her of Draco. He liked people to think that he was a bad boy, and that he got whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. He was popular with the ladies. He somehow showed absolutely no interest in them, while still managing to charm them. At first sight, you would think that he was one to slack off in school. But Hermione had soon realized that he was an excellent student, who always did his best. He did make it look like he never tried, but Hermione was sure he studied a lot. There was no other explanation as to why he was so smart and could answer every question she asked him about the subjects they were learning.

Initially, Hermione wasn't sure why he made her so nervous. People like that had never intimidated her before. But then again, she had never met someone like Draco before. She didn't meet new people often. Not because she was unsociable, she just didn't. Aaron Miller's personality scared her the most, because he reminded her of Draco. Every time she saw him, it was like a picture of all her demons was being displayed to her; demons that she was too afraid to fight, and so pushed them away from her. She pushed them in any direction she could, putting them under the bed, or that closet that she never seemed to use. But now she was being forced to face them on an even bigger scale.

The chief reason that she didn't accept the teaching job at Hogwarts right off was because she was afraid to face the memories. She knew that walking the halls, enjoying the feasts, teaching the classes, anything and everything would remind her of _him_. She was scared. More scared than she ever was of Voldemort. It was hard enough in Malfoy Manor, but to be in the very place where the memories began is what was slowly killing her very soul.

Now, more than any other time in about five and a half years, she wished that her beloved husband and best friend would come back to her. Every time she told herself that it was as impossible as Neville Longbottom falling in love with Pansy Parkinson, the hope grew in her heart more and more, until she didn't have a moment that she no longer longed to see his face, to hear his voice, and to feel his hand in hers. Memories flashed back to her.

_They were running up the stairs to the astronomy tower. She was running away because of his claims that he was going to tickle her senseless. She made fun of his old way of styling his hair. 'No one makes fun of Draco Malfoy,' he had said. She ran all the way up, not noticing the ache in her legs or the shortness of her breath because she was so happy. When she reached the top, she realized that she had reached a dead end. _

_He wasn't far behind, and when he made it all the way up he had stopped running and started walking towards her slowly, like a predator about to devour his prey. Suddenly, he tackled her, sending her to the ground, while at the same time making sure she didn't get hurt. He looked into her eyes, and then started tickling her. She laughed for what seemed like hours to her. Both had big grins on their faces. 'Stop, Draco! You win! You win! Your hair didn't look stupid when you were younger, okay!' He stopped tickling her and grabbed her hands, making sure she wouldn't try anything back. _

_Hermione saw his expression change as he looked at her. He put her hands above her head and interlocked their fingers. He was gazing at her with such adoration, such love, that all she could do was stare back and wonder what he was thinking about. And then he kissed her. Nothing else seemed to matter to either one anymore. They were lost in the world of each other, and all that was important was that one kiss. _

By the time she had finished reliving her memory, Hermione was sitting on the ground crying; crying for the tragedies of the past, and crying for the burdens of the future. She was tired of living this life, of facing her problems. She was tired of missing Draco, and she felt like she couldn't take it anymore. She couldn't handle him being gone from her. She was sick of it and she wanted it to end. Yet in her heart, she knew that there was nothing she could do about it but continue her struggle in moving on. Her heart also knew that she would never move on. She would never give up.

After a while, she calmed herself down and headed back to her room, her determination restored to be the mother, friend, and now professor, that she was needed to be.

The next day was happily received by a visit from the Potters. They surprised her, saying that it had been too long since they had seen each other, and that they missed her already. Hermione laughed and said she missed them too. Most of the day was spent in remembrance of their days as students. At one point, Harry had taken Michael out to the Quidditch pitch, in hopes to maybe see a team playing. Harry wanted Michael to become a fan early. This left Hermione and Ginny to start their own conversation without them.

"So how have you _really_ been doing?" Ginny asked. Hermione answered honestly, telling her how hard it was to be there, and how much she missed Draco.

"It's like I have to deal with everything all over again. Like all of the progress I've made has been completely undone, and all my old feelings and emotions have doubly returned. I'm scared, Ginny."

"I'm sure you are. But you're so brave, Hermione. And you're doing such a good job of raising Michael," Ginny said, trying to offer at least a little comfort.

"Thank you. It means a lot to me, it really does. Sometimes I wish I could just move on from Draco. He'll always be in my heart, I know that. But it seems like I think about him every minute of every day. I can't let go. I still have this undying hope that he'll come back to me someday. Sometimes I even find myself looking for him. I don't know what to do."

"I don't know what to say. But Hermione, if anyone can make it through this, you can. I believe in you and so does Harry and Ron, if it helps any. Now come give me a hug." Somehow Ginny always knew just what to say to make Hermione feel like there was hope. Her friend had always been there with a crying shoulder and words of love. Without Ginny and Harry, Hermione knew she would be living a miserable life.

Harry had always been there to help too. Thanks to him, Michael had a masculine figure in his life. Someone that could teach him Quidditch, take him out to climb trees, everything. Harry was Michael's male role model, one that every little boy should have. Of course, Hermione would have naturally preferred Draco to take that position in the boy's life. But since she couldn't have Draco, Harry was the best person to fill in.

Harry loved Michael Malfoy very much. They both absolutely adored each other, and it made her happy to watch them together. Ginny was very kind to share her time with her husband. But she realized more and more that soon Harry would have his own child to take care of. She didn't want Michael to become a burden to him. Yet she didn't know what she would do without him helping her out as much.

That night, Hermione went back to the Astronomy Tower again. She knew it wouldn't help her situation anymore, but she couldn't help but think what it would be like if Draco had not died. It was hard to imagine. Her life would be blissfully simple, like it was before. It seemed so unfair that she only had two years with him. It seemed even more unfair that Michael had even less.

She headed back to her room to take out all of her old stuff that reminded her of Draco. She had a trunk, much like that of the old Professor Moody, which if you had the right key, magically opened up into a little room. Every time she missed Draco more than usual, she would go into the room. Hermione pulled out her key and turned the lock, then climbed into the room. It was decorated just like Draco's study. That was Draco's retreat, and where he spent most of his time if he wasn't with Hermione.

She walked over to a bookshelf and pulled out a photo album of the two of them together. Flipping through the pictures made her cry more than anything else. Reliving each moment in seconds, looking at each picture and her heart feeling like it was being stabbed, she could barely take it. And yet she kept looking. She didn't know why. They both looked so happy. She noted, as she had many times before, that Draco was a very handsome man. She very much admired him.

Draco had put the book together himself and given it to her on their first anniversary. He had added to it ever since. Suddenly Hermione came to the last picture, and noticed that it seemed rather out of place. All other pictures were in chronological order, ending just a few days before the last battle.

The very last picture, which she had found so strange, was towards the beginning of their romantic relationship. She gazed at the happy faces while memories flooded back.

"_Draco Malfoy, I cannot _believe_ you pushed me into the lake! Do you know how long I had to wash my hair to get all the dirt and other nasty, unmentionable things out of it? Way too long!"_

"_Whoa, calm down, Granger. It's not that big of a deal. You look lovely now," he replied, smirking and holding up his hands in mock surrender._

"_Granger? Granger? That is Miss Hermione Granger to you, buddy!" she had replied, stressing each word by poking him in the chest._

_He grabbed her hand and said, "Yes, Miss Hermione Granger. But I don't think that will be your name for long."_

"_Of course that will be my name. I'm not going to change it or anything. What are you talking about?" she asked, clearly perplexed. _

"_You'll change it soon," he said mysteriously._

"_What _are_ you talking about?"_

"_I intend to make you Mrs. Hermione Malfoy, thus making it so that your name will not forever be Miss Hermione Granger. Understand now, sweetheart?" he explained._

"_Hermione Malfoy…" she trailed off, looking into his eyes. She grinned and said, "That doesn't sound too bad, Draco Malfoy."_

"_Good," he replied, slowly brushing his lips against hers. They smiled at each other, and then he wrapped his arms around her, hugging her tight. Not ten minutes later they had decided to head back up to the castle for dinner. _

"_Give me a piggy back ride? Please, Draco!" Hermione whined. He of course willingly consented, not at all minding a beautiful young girl on his back. They didn't make it far before Harry came running up, told them to smile, and snapped a picture. _

He never gave her his reasoning of why he took a picture, but Hermione was pleased that he did. Draco had taken a copy of it from Harry later, and wrote a sweet note on the back. He gave it to Hermione with a dozen roses one day. Hermione decided to take it out and read it. Her tears were blurring her vision so much that she had trouble pulling it out of its place.

_Hermione,_ it had read.

_I love you so very much, my sweetheart. And nothing will ever change that. I give you this picture now as a reminder of what we talked about before it was taken. I meant what I said then, and I fully intend on making that happen. Never forget: you are, and forever will be, my sweetheart, my angel, and the love of my life._

_Love Always,_

_Draco_

It wasn't very long, but it was so very sweet of him. She moved to put the picture back, but realized that there was another letter beneath the picture. It was still sealed. She wondered how it got there, but realized that it must have been Draco. No one else had seen the album besides her, and that was the Malfoy Crest on the envelope. With shaky hands she slowly lifted it up to her. Hermione Malfoy was written on the front. She opened the envelope and pulled out the letter, scared to death, inquisitive, thrilled, and horribly depressed all at the same time.

_My sweet Hermione,_

_I know that if you're reading this, I have probably passed on. I was hoping that you would find it. Putting a picture out of place was just the thing to do, knowing that your organized mind wouldn't be able to stand that. I sometimes fear that I know you too well, and yet I know that that could never be true._

_I want you to know that I love you so very much. You are the world to me, Hermione. Without you, I wouldn't be the man I am today. I mean that from the very depths of my heart. You miraculously saw that there really was something good inside me, and that I'm not a mindless and evil git. You also helped me to realize that too._

_I am so very honored that I received the amazing blessing of making you Mrs. Hermione Malfoy like I said I would that one day in the picture. That was the happiest day of my life. I guess now that I think about it, there were two very happy days in my life. The day I married you, and the day our son was born._

_I have no doubt that you will take care of him for me. Your heart is so big, and you love him so much, that I am sure he will never go without anything he needs. Tell him I love him. I could only wish that I could be there for him; to love him, to guide him, and to help him grow into an amazing person. I wish I could be the father that I never had. _

_I also have no doubt that, if I am not able to be the male figure in my son's life, someone else will be. However much I pretend to detest those two idiots of friends you have, I know that they are noble, and they will protect both you and my son. Tell Potter to marry Ginny already. She'll do him a wonder of good. _

_Last of all, my Hermione, I promise that though it may not seem like it, I will always be there for you. Remember me, sweetheart, and do not cry because we do not have tomorrow together, but be glad for what we had. I did not die in vain, for I had loved, and was loved in return, with a most deep and pure love. I promise you, if you call for me with your heart in a place that is ours, I will come back to you._

_I love you, Mrs. Hermione Malfoy._

_Forever yours,_

_Draco_

Hermione cried until she could cry no more. At last, with red and puffy eyes, she decided to go to bed. She would ponder the mystery of the letter tomorrow. She was far too overwhelmed right now.


	4. No One

"It's so good to have yeh back, 'ermione," Hagrid said. They were going on a walk around the lake. Michael was off skipping around in front of them, throwing rocks into the lake, and doing what little boys generally did. It was the day after Hermione had found the letter, and she had given herself little time to think about it. Why should she? She would only get her hopes up that he would come back, and he couldn't. Could he?

No, don't be silly. Draco was never coming back. It just couldn't happen, no matter how much she wanted it to.

Oh, how she wanted it to.

Suddenly a voice interrupted her thoughts. "You all right, 'ermione? You're awful quiet," Hagrid inquired.

"Oh…" she said. She was surprised to be interrupted so suddenly. "Yes, Hagrid, I'm fine. Just thinking..." she trailed off.

"I see," he said, sending her a knowing look. It was painfully obvious just what she was thinking about. "Look, I know yeh miss 'im an' all, but—"just what she never got to find out. A child's scream pierced the air causing both hearts to stop beating temporarily.

"Michael!" Hermione screamed. She ran forward, looking for him. He had disappeared. When she finally made it up to the spot she had seen him last, she looked around trying to find him. There was no such luck. Nothing could be easy in her life. "Michael!" she screamed again. "Where are you, baby?"

Then she saw it. Amongst what seemed to be miles of layers of ice atop the lake, there was one little hole, about ten feet from shore. Michael had fallen in the freezing lake. Hermione was at a loss. How could she walk across the ice when her son, whom weighed about a third of her, fell through the ice? She had to think of something, and quick. Yet she didn't know what she could do.

She felt like she was in a dream. This couldn't be happening. She couldn't lose him too. He was all she had left; she needed her son. Why did it have to happen to her?

Slow motion—the world was spinning in slow motion. But she knew she had to do something. She slowly began walking out onto the ice. She didn't care if she fell in too. She had to save him.

Closer—she was getting closer. Is he still alive?

Not much further—would she fall in too?

There! There's where he fell in. But where is he?

She spotted him. He was slowly sinking, what could she do? She was a witch, was she not? Yes, she would use magic. It had saved her plenty of times while on her adventures with Ron and Harry. She simply used a spell and levitated him up, up into the air. Slowly she lowered him back onto the ice, this time in a stronger place. She was sure he wouldn't fall again.

"Michael…" she trailed off as she ran to him. He was blue. When she touched him, she noticed that he was shivering. "Michael," she said, beginning to become frantic. He was cold, just like his father was after he died. No, she wouldn't let him die too.

"Michael, you have to wake up! Please! I need you! I can't lose you too," she couldn't do anything. He was slipping fast, losing color. As tears poured down her eyes, she realized that she had to take action. This was in her control.

With a sudden burst of energy she picked him up and slowly walked to the edge of the lake. As soon as she reached solid ground she began running. If she ran fast enough she would make it to the infirmary in time. Nothing could stop her.

On she ran. Students and teachers alike saw her and barely had time to register that their teacher and fellow professor was running as if life depended on it, with her son in her arms, before she was completely out of view. But his life did depend on it. And so did her's.

As fast as Hermione was running, it did not seem fast enough for her. It would never seem fast enough. The world still felt as if someone had placed a massive charm on it, slowing things down.

"Madam Pomfrey! Madam Pomfrey, I need your help!" she yelled as she burst into the room. She placed her son on a bed and kept yelling for help. Within seconds, Pomfrey, as well as Professor Dumbledore and Harry burst into the room. She didn't even realize how strange it was that Harry was here. Her attention was fixed solely on her son. She couldn't see or hear or think about anything else, besides the fact that she needed him to be alive.

"What happened, Hermione? Tell us what happened!" Harry asked. She didn't hear him.

"You have to save him! He can't die! He can't die!" she shouted.

Hagrid hustled into the room seconds later. Hagrid would tell Harry what was wrong. "What happened, Hagrid?" Harry asked.

"He fell in th' lake. Was in there fer quite a while. Yeh gotta help him, Pomfrey," Hagrid said, "immediately."

This was wrong; so very wrong, indeed. She felt lost and confused and hopeless. Already she was regretting not cherishing her son enough, yet she knew that there was little she could have done to cherish him more than she had. He was the world to her, the one she lived for. She felt she would be nothing without him.

They were taking him away from her and closing the curtains. She needed to be with him. "No! You can't take him from me! You can't! I need him! _I need him!_" Harry came over to her and grabbed her around the waist, trying to calm her down. He was whispering words of comfort into her ear, telling her that he would be alright. But Hermione didn't hear any of it.

"Listen, Hermione! He's going to be alright! He's going to live! You_ have_ to calm down! This isn't helping anything!" he shouted when he realized that his previous tactics weren't working.

"I can't, Harry! I can't! That's my baby! Not him, too! _Not him!_"

She was hysterical. Harry just held her and struggled with her. Her frenzy brought up a swell of pity in him. She had gone through so much already. She didn't deserve this too. It wasn't fair. There was something so wrong with the world. It brought so much pain and unhappiness. He had experienced it, and now he watched Hermione experience it and it just wasn't fair!

"I know, Hermione! I know it's not fair! This shouldn't be happening to you, but it is. _It is happening_, and I can't stand watching it. I can't stand it." His voice was despairing, like he had given up hope. If possible, it cut Hermione even deeper. In that one moment, she had completely given up hope. She sat down and cried into her hands. She cried because that was all she could do. She cried for the past and what she used to have. She cried for the present and what she didn't have. She cried for the future and for what she feared she would never have.

The cries of Hermione Malfoy that day were haunting. They echoed through the halls of Hogwarts, telling a sad story of despair. Any listener could almost feel the pain in those cries themselves. They were hollow sobs, reflecting overwhelming misery and a lifetime of doubts, fears, rejection, pain, loss, and sorrow. There was nothing that anyone could do to help. No one could heal the scars which marred her heart. No one could erase the memories which haunted her soul. No one could remove the fears that were in her very bones. No one could help her, and everyone knew it.

She was drowning in her sorrow, and she desired nothing more than to either die or be rescued. She was tired of the pain. She was tired of struggling through day after day. She was tired and she needed someone to carry her. But there was no one. No one.


End file.
